


Heart on my sleeve

by ladder_vs_stepladder



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Pre-Series, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 01:19:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladder_vs_stepladder/pseuds/ladder_vs_stepladder
Summary: (Contains spoilers for chapter one of DRv3)Akamatsu leaves Harukawa with a letter.





	Heart on my sleeve

The letter contains Akamatsu’s last words to her. Harukawa stares at it and doesn’t open it. It confuses her, more than anything. Why press this into her hands at the end?

But, she supposes, Akamatsu was always an enigma.

Always, always, always.

* * *

 

“I love you,” Harukawa whispers, tears shining in her eyes, “Why are you acting like I don’t?”

Akamatsu brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, “You shouldn’t love me. I’m a bitch, and I don’t trust anyone.”

Harukawa asks, “W-What about me? You still trust me, right?”

She laughs, “Great question. I’m not too sure about the answer.”

Harukawa’s shoulders slump, “I really do love you, even if you don’t want to believe that.”

Akamatsu grins and presses a kiss to her cheek, “I know. Thanks for reminding me.”

* * *

 

Hours after the fact, Harukawa still feels stinging on her cheek where Akamatsu slapped her.

The blonde is gone now, gone from the apartment they’ve been sharing for the past few months. Probably out smoking. Or drinking. Something reckless and impulsive like that.

Harukawa traces the tile of the bathroom floor with her index finger. It used to be easier to get along with Akamatsu, back when they first met.

She still loves her, though. She doesn’t think she could ever stop, even if she wanted to.

* * *

 

The lights are off, the water is running, and Harukawa thinks she’s going to rot in the darkness. Akamatsu is asleep beside her, snoring softly.

Harukawa hates to admit it, but she likes Akamatsu best like this. Best when she’s dead to the world and unable to hurt her. She wonders what kinds of things Akamatsu dreams about.

The thought of what those dreams might consist of are just another bullet point on the list of things that keep her up at night.

* * *

 

“I love you,” Harukawa breathes.

Akamatsu stares her down, “I don’t.”

Harukawa says, “I know.”

Akamatsu quirks an eyebrow, but kisses her nonetheless.

It’s ugly and awful but it’s all she knows. Akamatsu is her whole life.

* * *

 

Harukawa glances at the envelope again. Finally, she grabs it and shoves it under her mattress, pulling her hand away like it might burn her if she stays in contact with it.

Then, without any other thought, she leaves her room. Assassins have more pressing issues than the final words of a dead pianist.


End file.
